children after they have gone to bed. It is simply exquisite; the interruptions of the youngster insatiable for white rats, the exclamations of interest and approval, the naïveté and earnest make-believe of the little story-teller, are absolutely true to life. The story-telling was better than the pillow fight, which might have been much more realistic, and the dancing of the boy with the pillows on his legs was hardly in keeping with the realism of the rest of the

scene.

The last act brings us to the pirate ship, where the children are captive. They are about to be made to walk the plank when the cockcrow call of the adorable Peter Pan is heard within. He slays two pirates who are sent to investigate the strange noise, blows out the captain's lantern, and finally engages the pirate captain in broadsword combat. The fight becomes general. The pirates, discomfited, leap overboard, and the children crowd round the victorious Peter Pan, whom we recognise as the latest lineal descendant of Jack the Giant Killer, and who, although no braggart, is calmly complacent as he reflects upon his prowess. "Yes," he says, as he seats himself after the battle, "I am a wonder." And a wonder he is, a wonder-child of the most approved pattern.

After the restitution of the lost children to their beautiful mothers-where, by-the-bye, in harping on the mystery of twins Mr. Barry ventures perilously near forbidden ground, Peter Pan returns to his house on the tree-tops, when the curtain falls upon him and his beloved Wendy standing, like jocund day, tiptoe on the misty forest tops.

I ought not to omit to mention that the crocodile gets the pirate after all; that the dear, delightful nurse-dog reappears, and is restored to his kennel, in which Mr. Darling has been living ever since the loss of the children; and that everything is wound up satisfactorily. Only we feel sad for Tiger Lily and the heroic fairy Tink-a-Tink; but then, when three people love one boy, it is beyond the power even of a Peter Pan to make them all happy. That reflection is probably foreign to the mind of the younger spectator. Old and young enjoyed "Peter Pan," are enjoying "Peter Pan," and will, I hope, go on enjoying "Peter Pan." For as yet not decimal one per cent. of the children of the land have seen "Peter Pan," and I wish they could all see it-every one.

(11.)—“ VERONIQUE" AT THE APOLLO

THEATRE.

Matthew Arnold was not a Puritan. On the contrary, he was always making game of the Puritans. But one of the latest of his warnings was directed against what he described as the dangerous and the dangerous and perhaps fatal disease, the worship of the Goddess Aselgeia, which he declared was the prevalent malady of France. "If," he said, "none of them can see this themselves, it is only a sign of how far the disease has gone, and the case is so much the worse." He concluded by declaring that "the present popular litera

ture of France is a sign that she has a most dangerous moral disease." If " Veronique" be a fair sample of the popular musical comedy of London, and I am told it is better than most, then I am afraid the malady which Matthew Arnold located in France has crossed the Channel. 66 Veronique" is a play in which the conception of morality as a rule of life for man or woman is frankly treated as non-existent. Not a character in the play displays a glimmering perception of the fact that adultery is even a venial offence, much less a mortal sin. It is assumed as a matter of course that the hero, being young and handsome, ignores the Seventh Commandment. It is equally assumed as a matter of course that the girl whom he is going to marry considers it quite a natural and proper thing that he should come to his bride fresh from the arms of his mistress. Her only desire is to cut out her rival. That she had any right to expect, or that she has the slightest aspiration after the ideal of a husband who would be as stainless a bridegroom as he would expect her to be a bride, never crosses her mind. Of course, it may be very absurd and puritanical of me to object to the constant familiarising of the popular mind with what seems to me a false and fatal standard of immorality, but, all the same, I do object. I cannot conceive that the assumption of universal immorality as the atmosphere of society can be healthy or tend otherwise than towards evil. To put it bluntly, plays like "Veronique" seem to me likely to suggest to young men and women that if they give a free rein to vice, they are only doing what everybody else does, and that there's no great harm in it. That is not a suggestion which seems to me to make for right living, for pure homes, or for a healthy state of society. On the contrary, it makes directly for seduction, bastardy, prostitution, and the Divorce Court. In other words, it is of the devil devilish, and leads to hell in this world, whatever it may do in the world to come. That "Veronique" is a very pretty play, that the scenery, especially that of the second act, is charming, that some of the songs are melodious and many of the scenes very amusing, is true enough. But poison does not cease to be deleterious because it is served in a finely cut crystal goblet. And if all musical comedies are like "Veronique," or worse, then the ban which Puritans put upon stage plays might with reason be placed upon musical comedies.

I have been accused of many things in my life, but no one has ever called me a prude. No living English journalist has ever done more things shocking to Mrs. Grundy than stand to my credit or debit, as you choose to take it. I try to look at life sanely, and look at it as a whole, and no charge is more frequently brought against me than that I never shrink from discussing seriously with frank, plain speech questions arising out of the relations of men and women. Therefore it is not because there is adultery in the play that I object. There is adultery in life, and it is a fitting subject for the stage. But adultery as the motif of a tragedy is one

thing, and adultery assumed as the common ground of ordinary human relations is another. An adulterous atmosphere is not healthy on the stage or off it. And anything, either in drama or in literature, that suggests that there is nothing exceedingly sinful in sin, and that to make love to your neighbour's wife is rather the right thing for a fine gentleman to do, is bad. It tends directly to lower the moral standard of the average man, which is low enough in all conscience, and thereby operates directly to the degradation of women, who come to be regarded as mere material for vicious amusement.

In "Veronique," Madame Coquenard, who has been false to her husband, as he appears to have been habitually false to her, is confronted with the approaching marriage of her lover. They both think it a mere mariage de convenance, and she sings at him plaintively for quite a long time, imploring him to resume adulterous relations with her after his marriage. He demurs, apparently more because he is bored with her than because of any moral scruples; but she keeps on singing at him to come back, come back. The

scene can hardly be regarded as edifying. It is no use pretending that the relations between them were platonic. If they had been, there would have been no such tragic lamentation over a marriage which would have left such relations undisturbed.

Another and minor point, in which exception may fairly be taken to an episode rather than to the whole spirit of the piece, with which, however, it is only too much in accord, is the stupid and vulgar jest about the exposing of the under-garments of Countess de Champ Azur. We are told that she was riding on a donkey, attended by Monsieur Coquenard, who is making love to her, when the donkey threw her into a ditch. Thereupon Monsieur Coquenard, who is the buffoon of the piece, lets off a prolonged series of sniggering remarks. That a lady may by an accident expose herself is, of course, true enough. But only a blackguard would make jokes about it, and there is something suggestive of what Matthew Arnold called. the dangerous moral disease of the worship of Lubricity when such dirty fooling is tolerated by the "ladies" and "gentlemen" who fill the Apollo Theatre.

MR. JAMES S. METCALFE publishes in the North American Review an ingenious calculation as to what it would cost to found and run a national theatre. He demands a sum of £1,200,000 as an endowment. With this money he would secure the following objects :

1. To construct in New York a theatre-building which shall be (a) an architectural ornament to the city; (b) safe; (c) comfortable; and which (d) shall possess on its stage all the modern accessories for the perfect presentation of any play;

2. Gradually to form and perfect the best and most thoroughly trained company of English-speaking actors in the world;

3. To acquire gradually a repertory of the standard plays in English, both classic and modern, and to present them in the best manner and with the nearest possible approach to artistic perfection;

4. To encourage American literature by giving production to adequate plays by American authors;

5. To choose, under scholarly advice, the best standard of pronunciation of our language, so that the usage of the National Theatre shall be a recognised authority and the preserver of pure speech;

6. To establish, in connection with the theatre, a conservatory in which shall be taught the elements of acting, including elocution, pantomime, fencing, dancing, and kindred necessities of the art;

7. To establish, in connection with the theatre, a library which shall not only be of value to the theatre in making correct standards in details of scene and costume, but which shall be available for American dramatists and writers on dramatic subjects;

8. To set a correct and artistic standard which shall be a continual incentive to the improvement of dramatic art in America.

The site and the building would cost £240,000. He estimates that the theatre would only make four productions in the first year, that each play would only run three weeks, and the whole season would be

He would invest the balance of his endowment fund after paying the cost of the building at 4 per cent. This he reckons would give him an annual endowment of £38,000, leaving the balance of £20,000 per annum to be provided by the sale of tickets.

Mr. Metcalfe objects to a State subsidy. He does not despair of a millionaire. But his original idea is that of inducing fifty persons each of whom would subscribe £20,000 in order to become proprietors of a roomy box in the National Theatre, and one hundred other persons who would subscribe £2,000 for the privilege of owning an estrade chair, subject to the following conditions:

1. That the owners shall be entitled to their boxes or chairs on the occasion of all first presentations;

2. That, at any other time when they shall wish to do so, they shall have the right to use them for themselves or friends;

3. That when owners shall not indicate that they wish to use their boxes or chairs, the same shall be placed on sale to the general public, the proceeds to be set apart and, when the theatre shall have paid its running expenses, to be divided on an equitable basis among the subscribers to the endowment.

It would be interesting to hear what Mr. William Archer would say of this scheme

forms. But sometimes I succeed, and obtain an unmistakable likeness, and one such success outweighs a million failures."

"That is very interesting," said M. Richet. "What we want are facts-always facts-no matter how elementary they may be, but let them be unimpeachable."

"I agree," I replied as I bade my distinguished visitor farewell. "But you will never get your facts if every painstaking collector is treated as a fool or a knave for his pains by the non-psychic sciolists who have made the Psychical Research Society a by-word and a reproach throughout the metapsychic world."

THERE is at this moment in London a full-fledged barrister, a member of Gray's Inn, who is a man of colour, a native of Trinidad, practising law at Cape Town. Mr. Williams is a man of extraordinary pluck. He has built up for himself a practice in Cape Colony in the teeth of the bitterest prejudice of the whites, to whom the spectacle of a coloured man practising the law as barrister appeared something

unnatural and abominable. His professional brethren boycotted him. He was shut out from the Circuit and Bar messes, and everything was done by the majority of the Bar-Englishmen, by the way-to demonstrate how hollow a hypocrisy is the so-called equality of rights under the British flag. Mr. Williams, however, was neither disheartened nor embittered. Someone must do pioneer work, and as it fell to his lot he did it cheerfully, knowing that his mortification would render it easier for those who would come after him to claim and to exercise the rights and privileges which they enjoy as British subjects.

Mr. Williams came to this country with the twofold object of (1) endeavouring to induce the Benchers to interpose in his favour, so as to induce the Cape Bar to relax the severity of their boycott, and (2) of ascertaining whether there was any chance of his being selected as a candidate for a seat at the coming General Election. The Inn is deeply sympathetic with him, and the constituencies are already provided with candidates. Friends, however, see the force of his contention and entertain the application for a future occasion. But Mr. Williams's journey has

not been in vain, for he has had an opportunity of pleading the cause of our coloured fellow-citizens at the Colonial Office, where the status of the native in South Africa is coming up for settlement.

I made Mr. Williams's acquaintance at Cape Town, and it was in his office that the idea of a federation or league of all the coloured races in South Africa was first mooted. This federation was decided upon at the house of Dr. Abdurahman, the able and universally respected Malay doctor, who was last year elected to a seat in the municipality of Cape Town. Of this federation Mr. Sylvester Williams is president. It includes all natives, Kaffirs, West Indians, Malays, and Chinamen, although the lastnamed have no regular association as yet.

Mr. Williams called at Mowbray House on his arrival in London, and from time to time reported progress during his stay.

"Well," I said the last time he called. "How are you getting on?"

"Pretty well," said Mr. Williams. "I have been speaking up and down the country at Liberal meetings, and have been received with the greatest kindness." "No prospect of a seat yet?" said I.

"No. You see I was late in coming. But I do not think that there would be any objection to me on the ground of my colour. It is, indeed, one reason why I should be selected. The Indians have their member in the House, why not the Africans? You see I represent much more than the South Africans. If I were elected I should be the accepted spokesman of the West Indian natives, the Africans of the West Coast, and those of Central Africa. On Liberal constitutional principles it is only just that Africans, whose destinies are decided in the House of Commons, should have at least one spokesman of their own in Parliament."

"Oh, by all means, we cannot have the House of Commons too representative. But even if you could not get a seat, it might be worth while for your various African Leagues to maintain a representative kind of agent-general for their race in the capital, who would have a recognised although unofficial position. I take it that is practically the post which you informally hold at present?"

"Quite informally, that is so. I am here on my own business, but naturally my fellow-countrymen

avail themselves of my presence to get me to bring their grievances, which are many and varied, before the Government and the public."

"How did you get on with the Colonial Office?" "Very well indeed. I went to see them about the Constitution which is now being prepared for the new Colonies. They were very sympathetic, and listened very patiently to my statement of our case. I find they are willing to do my people justice, but there has been no proper representation of their cause." "What special points did you wish to press home?" "Simply these:-(a) That we should not be deprived of equal justice because of our skins. (b) That our civil and political rights should be protected by an insertion in the Constitution, else they are unsafe once left to Colonial legislators. (c) That divisional and municipal councils should be restricted in their legislative powers when they seek to conflict with the constitutional right of the subject; e.g., Pass sidewalk and bicycle laws. (d) That the native should have constitutional rights to purchase property, and to do legitimate business in his own name. At present

such privileges are withheld from him, and he smarts under this gross injustice. (e) That the State should recognise his claim to institute his own Church, presided over by his own ministers-this would diminish much friction. The native trusts his own men. (f) As a race we do not ask for social equality-this is of natural growth-but if we are taxed, and we are taxed up to the hilt, we should have representation, and the privilege to be educated in every institution

VIII-CRUISES ROUND GREAT

It was a lovely day in mid-February. We were passing Beachy Head on the Corinthic, going down Channel to Plymouth. The sun was bright, the sea was calm, and as we steamed past the great white cliffs I recalled the famous project of historic pilgrimages which I mooted a dozen years ago in the pages of this REVIEW, which I sketched in brief outline to my companion, Captain McKirdy, who for the last twenty years has been Captain-Superintendent of the fleet of Shaw, Saville, and Albion Co., Ltd. The Captain, like myself, was only going with the Corinthic as far as Plymouth, and we were both rejoicing in the unwonted brilliance of the Channel passage in February.

"Your scheme," said Captain McKirdy, "reminds me of a favourite day-dream which I have cherished for many years. It is different. Your pilgrimage was educational, scientific, historical. My scheme was purely democratic, popular, philanthropic. But the schemes are alike in essentials. Both start from the same point, and both seek the same end."

"Construct your scheme, Captain," I said, " on the astral plane. Who knows but that if you think it out in detail, as a castle in the air, it may not some day be materialised into reality."

of learning which is subsidised from the country's common exchequer. (g) That where we discharge requisite duties we should fully enjoy the privileges of citizenship. Nay, more, everything should be done to foster the native's love for the Empire, that he may feel himself part and parcel of it. Equality before the law, and fair opportunity and no favour are all we ask. The more backward the natives are the more reason, surely, for helping them forward."

"In South Africa where are the coloured men best off from the civic point of view?"

"In the Cape Colony, where they have the vote. What we want is to have Cape Colony practice extended to the Zambesi. At present the fear is that, if this is not done, the Transvaal practice of exclusion and imposition will extend to Table Bay."

"How will things be settled by the New Constitution of the Transvaal ?"

"I do not know. I think that the Colonial Office would like to see something done to redeem the promises it made when it went into the war. But whether it will be able to do anything, that is a matter on which I can say nothing. This I would suggest, a comprehensive Civil Rights Bill for the Natives to be embodied in the New Constitution."

If any member of Parliament or journalist or other person interested in the welfare of the Africans in South Africa, in the West Indies, or on the West Coast, cares to communicate with Mr. Sylvester Williams, letters addressed to 5, Essex Court, Temple, E.C., will find him.

BRITAIN: CAPTAIN McKIRDY.

"Well, you see," said Captain McKirdy, "it always seemed to me such a pity that so many millions of our people-especially our young peoplewho are teaching in schools or working in offices should never have any opportunity of seeing their own country. You have all manner of foreign excursions, but if anyone wants to see this little island of ours, what facilities are there? None that I know of. Yet this island is surely worth visiting by its own islanders."

"What do they know of England who only England know?'" I replied, "was Kipling's question. But how many of the English can be said to know England? Here am I, at my time of life, for the first time seeing Beachy Head from the seaward side, and I have not by any means been a stay-at-home bird.”

"Just so," replied the Captain. "It is so, but it ought not to be so, and I think I see how it could be altered, not only without loss to anybody, but even with profit to everybody. My idea is to buy a large old liner, with first-class steady, sea-going qualities, and fit her up for fortnight cruises round the coast. think the kind of ship I have in my eye might be bought for £50,000. I would tear all the inside out of her and fit her up from end to end with cubicles,

I